This Means War
by rcs17
Summary: Clary Morgenstern and Jace Wayland have never gotten along. But being her brother's best friend means he's at her house all the time. Suddenly, Clary is thrown in the crossfire—a war between her and her brother. And Jace is on the opposing side. Shots will be fired, and things will go too far. Typical Clace. Rated T for cursing. Happy Holidays, everyone!
1. Chapter 1: The First Shot

**A/N: Well, here's a new one! Let's just say, this is my holiday present to you all! **

**Hope you guys like it! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: The First Shot<strong>

The boys had eaten everything in the fridge, down to the last squirt of mustard. Clary sighed frustratedly and slammed the fridge door shut. Her stomach ached with hunger after hours of binge painting. Damn Jonathan and his band of obnoxious friends. She stormed out of the kitchen and planted herself next to the staircase. "Jonathan!" she yelled. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern!"

Clary's brother poked his head out from around the corner. His face held slight annoyance from being summoned by his little sister. "What?"

Clary held up the empty container she'd swiped from the fridge, glaring at him. "You idiots ate all the food."**A/N:**

Jonathan shrugged. "So? It was up for grabs. It wasn't yours, or anything."

Clary jabbed a finger at the lid. "It had my goddamn _name_ on it, dipshit. Next time, if you want a burrito, buy it yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't eat it. I don't know who did."

"That would be me." Clary jumped at the sudden voice behind her. She whirled around to met the teasing golden eyes of her brother's best friend, Jace Wayland. He ran a hand through his blond waves, pushing them back from his forehead. He grinned, holding up the last bit of mutilated burrito. "Looking for this?"

Clary snatched it away and stuffed it in her mouth. "Jerk," she muttered.

Jace leaned against the railing nonchalantly, casting his eyes towards her. "I think 'thank you' are the words you were looking for, Carrot."

Clary poked him in the chest. Hard. "I've _told_ you not to call me that."

"Yes," Jace said. He ruffled her red waves. "And I've told you that I don't care." He raised a brow. "I know I'm attractive, but can you please stop staring? It's making your brother murderous." With that, he loped up the stairs, yelling, "Later, Carrot!" over his shoulder.

"You've got the looks of a garbage can!" Clary called back. The only response she got was Jace's musical laughter. Clary muttered profanities under her breath and walked away. Jace certainly did not have the looks of a garbage can. Unfortunately, she knew it, and he definitely knew it. Jace's features were angelic, to say the least. They would put Adonis to shame. His golden hair fell in wave-curves to the base of his head and over his forehead perfectly without him even trying. His eyes were the most unusual shade of gold, and his body was tall, tan, and muscular while being lean. He was the perfect male specimen. That is, until he opened his mouth.

In truth, Jace a Wayland was the most conceited dickhead in the entire world. Unfortunately, the girls in their school didn't know that. They often fantasized about talking to him. He had a new girl every couple days. Even though he'd sleep with them then leave, they'd still crawl back to him. Jace called them "hot". Clary called them "brainless bimbos", or "BBs".

Clary went back into the kitchen and tossed the container into the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink, knowing Jonathan's OCD would force him to clean it all up. She sighed and grabbed a green apple, ignoring the fact that she hated the things with a burning passion. Food was food, she decided.

"Clary!" Isabelle Lightwood's voice rang out around the house. Clary cringed at the sharpness of her tone. "Kitchen!" Clary hollered.

Clary's best friend sauntered into the kitchen. Her long, pin straight black hair was twisted into a rope braid, casually tossed over her shoulder. Her insanely tight blood-red top clung to her curves, making Clary once again instantly jealous of her body. Isabelle plopped herself down on the kitchen stool. "You should really lock your door," Isabelle said. "It's unsafe."

"And you should really take off your shoes before entering a house. It's unsanitary," Clary retorted, gesturing to her stilettos.

Isabelle grinned. "They're pretty, so it's okay." She leaned her chin against her braced palms. "I want food."

"The boys ate all of it." Clary glowered. "I'm going to kill them one day."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You really are _not_ devious." Her smile glinted like diamonds. "But I am."

Clary grinned. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

><p>"That'll be $26.98," the pizza man said. Clary handed him two twenties, balancing the hot box in her hands. She managed to shut the door awkwardly with her heel. She glared at her friend, who was busy playing a game on her phone. "Thanks for your help," she said.<p>

Isabelle waved her away. "This was my idea." She casted her eyes up towards the thumping of what was teenage boys running downstairs. "They took the bait."

Clary quickly moved around, pulling plates out of the cupboard. She tugged a slice out and took a bite. The next step: waiting...

"I smell pizza!" Jon declared as he strode into the kitchen. Jordan Kyle, Alec a Lightwood, and Sebastian Verlac followed him, acting as though they were entranced by the scent. Only Jace leaned against the doorjam, looking amused. His gold eyes glinted. Clary's eyes narrowed at him.

Clary focused her attention back to her brother. "Help yourself," she said, pushing the box towards him.

"Sweet!" Jon ruffled her hair and greedily took three slices. Once again, Clary looked up to Jace. He caught her gaze and mouthed, "I know what you're doing."

Clary glared at him. Jonathan took a bite. And chewed. And chewed. Clary held back a snort when his eyes grew wide. His face turned fire engine red. Clary couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. "What the hell?" Jon choked out.

"Whoops," Isabelle said from behind Clary. "Did we accidentally order the 'Red Dragon Pizza'?"

Clary slapped her hand. "It worked!"

Jon ran to the fridge, pulled out the milk carton, and downed it all. His obsidian eyes held pure loathing. He gasped loudly as he finished. "That wasn't funny, Clary." He whirled on Jace. "Why the hell are you looking so smug?"

Jace shrugged. "I can't believe you missed the peppers, dude."

"Oh, shut up." Jon glared at his sister. "I swear, you'll pay."

Clary took a bite of her pizza. There was an unmistakable spark in her eye, a show of triumph. "Yeah, well, next time," she said, "don't eat my food."

Jon stormed out of the room. Jace was looking at her, again, with a bemused expression on his face. Clary sat down and cocked her head. "You know what you did, right?" Jace asked.

Clary held his gaze, her confusion mingling in the space in between them. "No, I don't."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He popped open the soda that was next to him and took a long swig. "Oh, Carrot," he said, grinning. "You fired the first shot. You started a war."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2: I Know What You Did

**A/N: Thank you so much to those who reviewed! It means so much! So this one is a bit short but there's a bit of action in it! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: I Know What You Did<strong>

_You fired the first shot. You started the war._

The war, Clary soon learned, would be official the next day. In fact, when she went to get her breakfast in the morning, she almost overlooked the chili sitting on the table. Almost. Needless to say, she bought her breakfast at Starbucks.

Isabelle was waiting for her in Clary's first period class. She looked at her friend expectantly. "What's up?"

Clary relayed what Jace had said the previous night.

Isabelle swiped Clary's coffee from her desk. "Frankly, I don't know what the big deal is. You know Jace is ominous all the time."

Clary shifted on the desk from where she was perched. "They're up to something," she said. "I can feel it."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and twirled her hair in between her long fingers. "You're overreacting."

The bell rang, making Clary jump. Isabelle strutted out the room. Clary slid into her seat and watched the door. As if on cue, Jace strode through the door, flicking his artfully messy curls out of his eyes. His eyes scanned the room before landing on her. A smirk made his way across his face, and once again, he gave her that look: the triumphant look edged with smugness. The look in his eyes gave off the impression that already won.

"Mr. Wayland," Mr. Aldertree called out. "Take your seat."

"Yes, sir," Jace replied with a mock salute. He made his way to the empty seat beside Clary. "Morning, Carrot," he half-whispered.

Clary ignored him and unsuccessfully attempted to pay attention to her Math teacher. _An=2x+—Tap! 4x=Tap! _Jace started tapping his pen against the desk. It got louder, and louder, and louder. "Stop it!" Clary burst out.

She could've slapped the grin off his face. "Why? Is this bothering you?" His grin widened. "Or am I just too hot to handle?"

"I will stab you in the eye," Clary threatened, holding her pencil menacingly.

Jace cocked a brow. "Sure." He turned his head towards the board and didn't make a sound for the rest of the class.

* * *

><p>"I swear, it was like he was planning to torture me," Clary complained. She took a deep bite out of her apple. "Something is <em>definitely<em> going on."

Simon Lewis stabbed his lettuce with his fork. His coffee-colored hair fell over his glasses, obscuring his vision. "Well, you did start it."

"Technically," Isabelle interjected, "I did. But, hey, who's counting?"

"You're not helping." Clary picked a grape off of Simon's tray, earning a noise of protest from him. "We should plan a counterattack. Any ideas, Simon?"

"Oh, yeah I'm totally in." Sarcasm dripped from Simon's voice like water from a tap. "So you're going to stick honey in Jon's hair gel bottle and trade his water for vodka. And, hey, while you're at it, make me drive to the nearest convenience store because I'm the only one with a car." He shook his head. "No thanks. Besides, I'd rather not get on Jon's bad side."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She looked towards the other girl, brows raised. "Anything?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Wait. See what they do, then react."

"Perfect." Clary threw her hands up. "So basically, it's just me against six boys."

"Well, Alec doesn't really want anything to do with this, but pretty much," said Isabelle.

Clary sat back in frustration. "Fine." She looked up. "I'll just wait." She pushed away from the table. "I have to get my books from my locker. Want to come?"

There was a unanimous chorus of "nah, I'm good," from her friends. Clary stuck her tongue out at them and walked away, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She made her way down the barren halls of St. Xavier's high, head held up. She finally reached the creaky, faded, green locker. After a couple of hard twists, she popped open her locker. And immediately regretted.

Green slime poured down from the top of the locker, immediately drenching her hair. There wasn't enough to get all of her, so only two drops appeared on her shirt. Clary stood there in shock. Laughter sounded from behind her, loud and clear. She turned around to face Jon and his crones. They were all gleeful, minus Alec. Isabelle's brother lingered uncomfortably behind them, blue eyes casted downwards. Jonathan's face held smugness. He flipped his white-blond hair out of his eyes. "Ha! I knew it would work, Jace!" he exclaimed.

Jace rolled his eyes, looking bored. "Yes, Jonathan, it worked. It was hardly elegant, though."

"You're such a downer," Jonathan claimed. His immaturity almost made Clary laugh.

Clary fingered the goop and brought it to eye-level. The slime slipped through her fingers, falling to the tiled floor. "Yeah, you got me." She shut the locker, forgetting her original plan to get her books. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to wash this stuff out."

She walked away, towards the girl's locker room, where she spent the next thirty minutes washing it out. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her auburn hair was finally devoid of green, though it felt considerably gritty.

Clary took in the frustrated look on her face. She had to fight back. Her poor hair...

A lightbulb went off in her head. A smirk slowly made its way across her face. Her hair.

The next plan of action unfurled in her mind. Clary whipped out her phone and scrolled down her contacts, typing a message in rapidly. She nearly jumped up and down in excitement as she pressed the green send button. After one last glance in the mirror, she went to her next class, with one thought in her mind.

_Game on_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, that's it for this chapter! As always, let me know what you think. Any suggestions for future pranks and plot woipd be lovely. I hope you guys liked it! Until next time! Xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3: The Morgenstern Men

**A/N: Well, here's chapter three! Thank you so so SO much to those who reviewed, favorited, and followed! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: The Morgenstern Men<strong>

Jace read the two words over and over. _Game on?_ he thought.

Clary was overreacting. That was no secret. The last thing he wanted to do was to get in the middle of a sibling feud. But on the other hand, that's exactly what he wanted to do.

Jace kept thinking about when the slime fell on Clary. There was a clenching in his gut, an unfamiliar surge of sympathy. He mentally slapped himself. It was stupid.

Jonathan looked at his hands, running his fingers across each other. "Any ideas for getting back at my sister?"

Jace looked over at him from the passenger seat. Jon's stare was fixed forward, but he was grinning. "I know you want in."

Jace smirked. "When have I ever missed a chance to mess with your sister?"

"Oh, I'm counting on that." Jace ignored the kick in his heart when he said that. The Morgensterns were ruthless. Once they got into a fight, there would be no survivors. Anyone caught in the crossfire would perish with them.

And, hell, did he love it.

"Izzy!" Clary burst through the Lightwood's front doors. She turned her head rapidly, looking for Isabelle. The ornate golden sheen of the room surrounded her. The Lightwood mansion always astonished her. Spiraling staircases towered over paintings and statues of angels of light.

"What?" Isabelle peered out from the kitchen, charcoal eyes flashing in annoyance. "I'm cooking."

"Trust me," Clary said, grinning, "I'm leaving as soon as possible." Isabelle rolled her eyes and gestured for Clary to follow her into the kitchen. Clary sat at the dark brown table and picked a chip from the open packet. Isabelle tied an apron around her slim waist and continued to stir her concoction. Clary wrinkled her nose. The pungent smell filled her nostrils. She felt like throwing up. "So," Isabelle said, "what do you want?"

"I need your mom's hair dye."

Isabelle raised a brow. "I'm not even going to ask." Isabelle's arm started to have difficulty moving. She pushed and pulled with all her strength. Clary hopped up and stood next to Isabelle. Clary cringed. A thick, snot-like substance coated the base of the pot. The odor was even stronger than before. Clary swatted Isabelle's hand away. "Stop it! I swear, that thing is going to burn through the pot."

Isabelle glared at her. "You sound like Jace."

"Who sounds like Jace?" Jace walked through the door. He regarded the girls cooly. Clary mentally cursed herself. Of course Jace would be there. It was easy to forget he was Isabelle's adopted brother.

"This...thing." Clary pointed at the now burning substance. "It's all annoying and sloshy. Isn't that right, Iz?"

Isabelle untied the apron with a haughty tilt of her chin. "I'll never understand you two," she muttered. "Clary, I'll get that..." She eyed Jace. "...thing you asked for."

Clary nodded. Jace opened the fridge and examined it. "Well, I guess I'm ordering Chinese," he said.

He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. "So, Carrot. What are you doing here? Oh, I know. You want some of this." He gestured to himself. "Well, I'm busy tonight, but tomorrow—"

"You are not God's gift to humanity," Clary countered. "Get over yourself."

Jace grinned lazily. "That hurts, Carrot," he said. "Right here." He pressed a hand to his heart.

"According to half the girls in our school, that's not where your ego is." Clary mentally high-fived herself.

Jace's grin never faltered. "I knew there was something I liked about you," he declared.

But before Clary could ask him what he meant, Isabelle reappeared with a small pink bag in hand. She thrust it towards Clary. "Here, Clare."

"Thanks, Iz." Clary took it and looked behind her. "Oh, and you might want to throw that pot out," she said, and walked out of the room quickly.

"My cooking's not that bad!" Isabelle called out after her. She heard Jace laugh loudly, and she couldn't help herself. She grinned.

Clary crept into the bathroom slowly. Jonathan was in the next room, doing who knows what. Clary pulled his conditioner out from behind the curtain and unscrewed the cap. Carefully, she mixed the dye together, pouring it into the bottle. She heard the front door slam and hastily screwed the cap back on. "Clary! Jonathan!" her father called from downstairs.

"Coming!" Clary replied. She put the bottle back on the shelf and flew down the stairs. Valentine Morgenstern was hanging up his cost when she got there. His white-blond hair was still in place, even after his thirteen hour work day. Sometimes, Clary would wonder how she was related to him. Jonathan had gotten Valentine's black eyes and hair, Clary had gotten his nose and mouth.

"Hey, kiddo!" Valentine ruffled her hair affectionately. "How was school?"

"Good!" Clary chimed. "You know, same old, same old." She reached up instinctively, remembering the slime.

Valentine nodded. "That's good. Jonathan!"

"I'm about to take a shower!" Jonathan's muffled voice came from upstairs. Clary's eyes widened fractionally. She had expected him to take a shower the next day. Well, the plan was in motion.

Valentine produced two takeout bags from behind him. "I got Taki's," he said. "We might as well start. It'll be three hours until he's down."

Clary followed her father into the kitchen. She pulled out various forks and plates from the cupboards, and set herself down at the table. "Your mother is working late tonight," Valentine said. "She has that big exhibition coming up."

Clary nodded. Jocelyn Morgenstern was a renown artist. She was famous for her warm-toned paintings. Most of her pieces had colors echoing Clary and her hair. Warm auburn highlighted with gold. "I can't believe she won't let me see it," Clary deadpanned.

Valentine shrugged. "It's supposed to be a sur—"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Jonathan screeched. Clary couldn't help herself, and she burst out laughing. Jonathan's footsteps grew louder. He bolted into the kitchen, hair damp, with Clary's pink towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was now raven-colored. His eyes trained on her. "What the hell?!" he repeated.

"Man, am I glad slime doesn't stain," Clary said cheerfully.

Valentine watched his children with wide eyes. "Clarissa Adele Morgenstern! Why is my son's perfectly blond hair _black_? This is outrageous! You know, the Morgenstern men have carried this rare trait through _generations_!" he ranted.

Clary sat down placidly and took a sip of water. "Well," she said, "he started it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: well, there it is! His hair's black! Get it? Cuz Sebastian? **

**Lets try to get it to 14 reviews, and they'll be another chapter tomorrow. **


	4. Chapter 4: Diaries

**A/N: 19 REVIEWS? Thank you guys so so so much! I know I said I'd update yesterday, but I seriously had a shit ton of homework. I had started it last night, but...yeah, it just didn't happen.**

**Anyway, there's some drama towards the End of the chapter, and, of course, Jonathan being stupid. :) **

**i really hope you guys like it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Diaries<strong>

Clary was going to get it.

That's all Jace could comprehend when Jonathan had burst into his room at eight o'clock at night and started ranting. When he'd seen Jonathan, it had taken every ounce of restraint Jace had not to roll around on the floor laughing. His dark hair was now too stark against his pale skin.

"Dude," Jace said, "I'm pretty sure that's my mom's hair dye."

Jonathan glared at him. "Great, so it's not going to come out. Lovely. More the reason to get back at her."

"Why can't you two just talk, like normal siblings?" Jace wondered. At that moment, the door creaked open and Isabelle peeked through.

"Hey, Jonathan." Izzy smirked. "Nice hair."

Jonathan pointed a finger accusingly at her. "You," he said through gritted teeth. "Is this shit coming out?"

"Hm..." Isabelle tapped her chin mockingly. "I don't know."

Jace snorted. "It'll wash out after twenty-eight washes," Jace informed his friend. "Maryse had accidentally boughten the wrong hair dye once and lost the receipt. She gets her hair done professionally done."

"You could've said that earlier," Jonathan huffed. He plopped himself down on Jace's bed.

"We Lightwoods like to build suspense," Isabelle said. She looked from one boy to the other. "Well, this was fun, but I've got nails to paint."

She sauntered out the door, shutting it behind her. Jonathan turned on Jace. "You said you'd help."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? Are you going to actually listen to me this time?"  
>"Depends. How stupid is your plan?"<p>

"Pretty stupid." Jace grinned. "Then again, so are we."

Jonathan leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. "I'm listening."

"It's quite simple, actually," Jace went on. "Even you could've thought of it."

Frustration grew on Jon's face. "Dude, just tell me."

"Nope." Jace sat back, crossing his legs. "Think: what's the most important thing to Clary?"

"You want me to kidnap her teddy bear?" Jonathan asked quizzically. "Okay, but I'm telling you, she peed on Mr. Cuddles as a baby. Sure, the washing machine 'cleaned' it, but come—"

Jace hit him upside the head. "No, dumbass. Her _sketchbook_. She's always nose-deep in that thing."

Jonathan's eyes widened in understanding. "Ohhhh." He grinned. "That's good. I should really listen to you more often."

Jace rolled his tawny eyes. He kicked himself off the bed. "After six years, now you finally listen."

* * *

><p>Clary stuffed her math textbook into her locker. It was crammed with crumpled up papers and old, broken pencils. Slowly, she wiggled her Physics text book from the bottom and shut the door quickly. And jumped.<p>

Jace was leaning against the lockers, a predatory look in his face. "Hey, Carrot."

"What does my brother want now?" Clary sighed.

Jace arched a brow. "So I'm only allowed to talk to you when I'm running errands for your brother? Ouch."

Clary narrowed her eyes at his golden ones. They glinted, like the precious metal itself. "Yes."

His eyes shifted quickly to the bag that was slung cross-body, then back to her face. "Fine. I know when I'm not wanted."

"That's shocking," said Clary, "seeing as you're always wanted."

Jace winked. "Damn right." He ruffled her hair,earning a noise of protest from Clary. "Later, Carrot."

Clary blinked confusedly at his back. Simon appeared at her side, tapping her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "What was that about?"

Clary shrugged. "Just Jace being Jace. Ready for torture?"

"I'll have you know," Simon started, "that Physics is important for everyone's daily—"

"Yes, yes." Clary slung her arm around Simon's shoulder. "This is why you're my nerd best friend: to tell me stupid things I don't need to know about my pointless classes."

"Shut up," said Simon, but he was smiling. "Let's go."

Clary laced his arm with hers and tugged him along.

* * *

><p>"So, where is it?" Jonathan demanded.<p>

Jace rolled his eyes. "It's in her bag," he said. "Just like I told you."

Jonathan raised his hands in a surrender motion. "Hey, I just wanted to be sure." He tilted his head to the side. "So, you remember the plan, right?"

"Well, yeah, seeing as it was _my_ plan."

Jonathan shoved his shoulder. "Oh, shut up. You're the only one who has three classes with her." He looked at Jace pointedly. "Don't screw up."

Jace casted his eyes skyward. "Yeah," he said. "I've got this."

* * *

><p>Clary was late to English. Again. It wasn't her fault that her Physics class was on the opposite side of the school.<p>

Clary was out of breath when she finally reached the classroom. She quickly scanned the room for an empty seat, but the only vacant one was next to...Jace. Of course.

She grit her teeth and moved to the seat, preparing for forty-six minutes of torment and pain. Not to mention, that damn pen of his.

Jace eyes flashed playfully when she sat down, but for once, he didn't open his mouth to say "Hey, Carrot." Clary was slightly skeptical, but relieved as she put her bag on the floor and reached for her folder and pencil. She pulled out the page of Epic Conventions they were going over and started doodling little flowers in the margin. She felt eyes on her and turned her head to Jace. "Can I help you?"

Jace smirked. "You already did," he whispered back, and continued spinning his pencil in between his fingers. Clary furrowed her brows, but disregarded his strange manner. She continued drawing for the rest of class in a peaceful trance. When the bell rang, she didn't notice until her teacher tapped her on the shoulder. "Come on, Clary," Ms. Graymark said, "it's time for lunch."

Clary looked over at the empty seat beside her. Jace's seat. He just left. Clary nodded at her teacher and got up.

_Something's definitely going on._

* * *

><p>It was easy, really, taking the sketchbook. Easier than it should've been. Jace walked down the empty halls with the spiral binding in his palm, looking behind him every few seconds. He made his way to the greenhouse. It was the only place he could find peace and quiet in this book. As he opened the heavy metal door, he realized that Clary would love it. She loved to draw simply beautiful things.<p>

And, indeed, it was stunning. Lilac flowers bloomed on pine-green bushes. Buds dotted the plant beside it. The gardener once told him that they were Midnight Flowers, and only open at midnight. Jace doubted it, but he went along with the story. Taller vines wrapped around the metal stands, creating a beautiful tangle of greens and browns. The best part was, though, only he knew about it.

He lowered himself to the ground, resting the book on his thighs. "Clary's sketchbook" was written across the front in teal glitter-pen. This was Clary's diary, he knew. She never showed anyone what was in it. He ran his fingers across the letters slowly and opened the cover. The first drawing was of a stallion, beautifully penciled in. It was galloping through an empty field specked with wild flowers, once again making Jace think about how Clary would love the greenhouse.

He turned the pages carefully. Drawings of Jonathan and her family, Simon and Isabelle, came after. Random bits of beauty, such as a cracked vase and tulips in springtime followed. She was good, Jace realized. But as he reached the middle of the book, the theme in drawings changed. She was drawing rings with stars on them, angel wings with blood coating the feathers, dripping into a cup of gold. After a drawing of an ornate sword, Jace turned the page. His eyes widened. His heartbeat sped up. It was unmistakable.

His own face looked up at him from the page. His features were not unlike an avenging angel. And, sure enough, angel wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, looking down-soft. Jonathan was next to him, his wings all colored black like his eyes. So this was what she thought of the two. Jonathan was the fallen. Jace was the light.

Jace shut the book harshly and stared at the cover. He took a deep breath.

_What have I done?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ...well, what _has_ he done? :) **

**Thank you guys so so so much for your reviews, I love all of you! I hope you guys liked it! ****Lets try to get it to 30 reviews! **

**Until Next Time! **


	5. Chapter 5: Antics

**A/N: Ugh, horseback riding totally killed my legs. But, I wrote you guys a chapter anyway! **

**Hope you guys find it enjoyable.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Antics<strong>

Jace pressed his shoulder to the cool wall and peered around the corner, where Clary was talking animatedly to her rat friend—er, Simon. He was making wide, sweeping gestures with hands, and she was shaking her head with a smile on her face. He looked away, then looked back. And blinked.

Clary's freckles were more prominent and her emerald eyes seemed more vibrant. Maybe it was because he could now see through them more clearly. He saw her with a completely different light.

Jace shook himself out of it and focused on the task at hand. He knew that she didn't know it was missing. She would've been on a rampage. He needed to get the book back to her, but now wasn't the time.

With one last glance at her, Jace walked away. He knew he had to do it when she wasn't looking. The problem was, though, Clary was hardly ever without her trusty messenger bag. The only time she would be without it, he imagined, was when she went to the bathroom. Jace groaned. Today was just not the day.

* * *

><p>Clary sat down on the stool in her art class and focused forward. Ms. Fairchild was setting up various paintings at the front, arranging them in different positions. Clary fought a groan. They were doing abstract, the bane of Clary's existence.<p>

She looked down at her outfit. She loved her shirt, and her jeans were already paint-caked. Sighing, she took the elastic from her wrist and knotted her hair in a loose bun, even though she knew she'd need to take a shower.

Jace slid into the seat next to her, following her gaze. He grinned. "This should be fun."

Clary turned. "_Why_ are you here?"

"I've decided that you don't quite see me enough," said Jace. "So, I'm giving up my free period to spend with you."

Clary raised her brows. "What makes you think Ms. Fairchild won't kick you out?"

Jace threw his head back, shutting his eyes. The light warmed up his face, showing the dimensions. "You underestimate how much teachers love me." He opened one eye. "Besides, my parents are the primary donors to this school. I have more power than the principal."

Clary scoffed. "Yeah, well then why don't you have the key to the snack bar?" Jace was silent. "I win." She sat back.

"No, no," Jace said, looking at her completely. "I was just wondering as to how I should answer that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keychain. Eight or nine keys dangled from the hoop. Clary recognized one as the keys to his Buick. "Were you asking about the staff snack bar, the sports snack bar, or the general student snack bar?" He jingled the keys. "Because I've got them all."

"_How_?" Clary asked.

Jace placed the keys back into his jeans. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Clary opened her mouth to retort that women too could be magicians, but the bell rang, effectively cutting her off.

Ms. Fairchild welcomed them with a warm smile. "Good morning. I'm guessing you know what to do." She tilted her head. "Lovely to see you again, Jace."

"You, too." He looked over pointedly at Clary, smugly satisfied. Clary slouched, muttering profanities under her breath. Jace raised a brow.

Ms. Fairchild laid a large canvas on their shared table. "Jace, how about you do this one with Clary?"

"No, I don't think that'll be—" Clary started.

Jace cut her off. "I would _love_ to," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "I always thought Clary and I would do great things together." Clary glared at him. Ms. Fairchild nodded in approval.

"I think so, too," she said. "Both of you have great _passion_. It'll be lovely to see what you come up with." Ms. Fairchild tottered off on her stilettos.

"It's abstract," Clary muttered. "No one needs passion for abstract."

Jace grabbed up a brush and waved it around experimentally. "Well, if the teacher decreed it..." He picked up a tube of black paint. "So, is there some kind of machine that mixes the paint, or..."

Clary snatched the paint away and squeezed a glob onto the styrofoam palette. "You're hopeless." She took her brush and dipped it into the paint. She drew a thick black line on the canvas. "I'm assuming you know which side of the brush goes into the paint."

"Duh." Jace rolled his eyes. "The side with the hair on it." Clary sighed. Maybe he wasn't so— "Because the other side is for mixing colors."

Clary face palmed herself. "Are you always this stupid or—" She narrowed her eyes at Jace's gleeful smile. "What?"

"You've got a little something," he said, rubbing his forehead. Clary whipped out her phone and examined her face in the black screen. There was a large streak running from her hairline to her eyebrow.

Clary glowered. "Perfect." She rushed to the sinks, not looking back at the golden boy. It was a good thing she didn't, because the she would've seen Jace slipping her sketchbook into her bag.

* * *

><p>Jace yanked his bag from his too-narrow locker. The school really needed an upgrade. He slung it across one shoulder and slammed the metal door shut, nearly jumping at the figure leaning on the locker next to him.<p>

Simon Lewis rested a hand on his hip. Jace looked at him cooly. "Seriously, rat-boy," Jace said. "That's my move."

Simon tossed his dark brown hair out of his eyes. "I know what you did," he said simply."

Jace started walked away, but the other boy caught up to him. "You'll have to be more specific." Jace flicked his eyes towards Simon, then back again. "I tend to do a lot of things, mainly in the janitor's closet."

Simon rolled his coffee-colored eyes. "One, gross. And two, I know you took Clary's sketchbook."

Jace's heart skipped a beat, but he looked dead ahead. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw it in your hand after lunch," Simon replied. "And seeing as you can't draw a straight line—"

"I didn't have it," Jace interrupted. The lie tasted bitter in his mouth.

Simon held the door open for the two of them to pass though. He squinted at the two o'clock sun. "Fine, I won't tell her. But a word of advice." Jace opened his mouth to say something, but Simon beat him to it. "Don't get involved with Morgenstern affairs. They're insanely competitive."

"Done." Jace shrugged. "Too much drama, anyway."

Simon nodded. "Good." He started to walk away, but Jace called after him. He turned around.

"Just remember, rat-boy," said Jace, "that ominous doesn't work in your favor."

Simon snorted and walked away. Jace made his way over to his car, unsurprised to see Jonathan Morgenstern leaning against it. Jon jerked his head towards Simon's direction. "What the hell did Lewis want."

Jace threw his bag into the back seat and climbed behind the wheel. "Something about history homework, I don't know. It sucks being in their grade."

Jonathan slid himself into the passenger seat. "Try knowing him for ten years. Speaking of which, did you get it?"

Jace shocked his head. "She wouldn't let that thing go. Sorry."

"Great!" Jon threw his hands up. "Now what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Jace shrugged. "I don't know."

Jace could practically feel Jonathan's quizzical stare. "You're supposed to be helping me."

"Yeah, well." Jace pulled out of the parking lot into heavy traffic. "I've decided that this isn't worth it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, I'm going to go crash now... Sorry if it's bad, I'm kinda half asleep. Tell me what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6: What You Wanted

**A/N: So a guest last time left a review asking about what Kace meant at the end of chapter 4 by "This is what [Clary] thought of them". Jonathan was always the dark angel, picking on hER amongst other things, and Jace was just the light she looked up to, because she secretly liked him. Also, he/she was wondering what Jace meant by "What have I done?" He means that he was blind; he didn't think of things more than one way. Also, he betrayed her trust by taking the sketchbook. I hope this clarifies. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: What You Wanted<strong>

Isabelle slammed a red paper onto the table. "You're doing this," she said.

Clary tugged it out from under her palm. She realized it was a flyer. For a party, specifically. And even more specifically, one being thrown by Isabelle. Clary pushed it back to Isabelle, eyeing it in disgust. "No," she said firmly.

"Aw." Isabelle smirked. "You think you actually have a choice. That's adorable. You're coming to the party, and," she held up a finger when Clary tried to speak, "you're getting a makeover."

"Sucks," Simon muttered, his eyes trained on a book.

Isabelle faced him. "You're coming,too, nerd."

"Mhm. Yup. Totally." Simon looked up. "What're we talking about?" Clary shoved the paper in front of his face. He scanned it, eyes moving rapidly. He crumpled it up and threw it on the table. "Oh, hell no."

"Hell yes," said Isabelle. "No exceptions." She made a show of checking her watch. "Well, I'd better get to class." She sashayed out of the room, dragging Simon with her. Clary flopped back down in her seat, glaring at the paper. She looked up as Jace sat next to her, swinging his bag to the ground.

Clary handed him the paper. "Why the hell do you let her do these things?" she demanded.

Jace lifted a brow. "Ah. Well, see, there's this girl, lovely girl, you may know her. Her name is Isabelle. She's...how should I say this...frightening." He looked up thoughtfully. "Yes, that's the word. She gets absolutely livid when she _doesn't_ get her way. So, to sum it up, she wanted a party, our parents aren't home, so Alec and I said yes." Jace patted Clary's head mockingly and sat back.

"Wimp," Clary coughed.

"Nah," said Jace. "I just happen to love certain parts of my body. You know, like, my ear drums and my—"

"I'm perfectly aware of which parts of your body are encased in gold," Clary deadpanned.

Jace held up his hands in a surrender motion. He sat back lazily, closing his eyes. "Your words, Carrot. Not mine."

Clary slapped him upside his head.

* * *

><p>Clary wanted to spend her Friday night in front of Isabelle's vanity. She even wanted to get an earsplitting headache from the loud thumping music playing through the comically large speakers. Hell, she really wanted have stale beer.<p>

Totally.

Definitely.

Completely.

_Not_.

Clary sat herself down in the far corner of Izzy's living room, wishing she were at home, drawing in her sketchbook. She could barely see through the smoke that was coating each inch of what was the pristinely clean Lightwood mansion. She wondered whether Robert and Maryse Lightwood turned a blind eye to these sorts of things.

_Well, sulking isn't going to help me_, Clary thought. She pushed up from the ground, smoothing her dress as she did. Or, as she called it, the spare scrap of cloth from the back of Izzy's closet. Slowly, she pushed through the crowds of her classmates. Clary doubted that Isabelle knew even half of these people. The upside to that was, though, Clary knew where the good stuff was. Hey, if she was going to get through the night, she needed a buzz.

She finally stumbled into the downstairs powder room and shut the door behind her. She lifted the carpet to reveal a wooden trap door, and yanked it open. Bingo.

Scotch and bourbon. She decided on a 1947 bourbon. The stopper was hardly child-proof. It made a satisfying noise when she pulled it out. _Screw glasses_.

She took a swig. It burned the back of her throat, but suddenly, it was as if she could see every leaf on every tree. She took another sip. The burning had dulled now. She took another. And another. In fact, she took more of the liquid down her throat until her vision turned black.

* * *

><p>Jace had enough. He was going to have a serious talk to Isabelle about how her parties were conducted. He knew there wasn't going to be duck-duck-goose or anything, but he had expected it to be more tame.<p>

Even in his sober state, everything was blurred. His disoriented mind could only make out colors and shapes and sizes.

A flash of red appeared across his vision. He blinked, cursing his tired mind for being so vulnerable. It wasn't her. Why was he seeing her everywhere?

It was back again. A streak of red and orange. _Clary_.

Jace's eyes locked on her. Clary's green eyes danced. There was a certain lightness about her. She _glowed_. It was his mind playing tricks on him again, he told himself. But wait...

A near-empty bottle was in her hands. Light brown colored liquid sloshed around. Jace groaned. That was why she was lit up like a goddamn disco ball.

He pushed his way towards her, calling out for her. She didn't hear him at first. He called out again and again. Finally, she caught his eye. "Jace!" she yelled.

Jace reached her, grabbing her hand. "Damn it, Carrot. What the hell are you doing?"

"I found the unicorn juice," she said. Jace almost laughed.

He tugged her up the stairs. "Come on, Carrot. Let's get you to bed."

"NOOOO!" Clary pouted comically, crossing her arms. "I wanna stay."

Jace sighed. "Fine." He scooped her up, eliciting a squeal from her, and carried her up the stairs. He reached Isabelle's room, and with some difficulty, opened the door.

Isabelle was half naked on the bed, making out mercilessly with Sebastian Verlac. Neither of them seemed to notice the intruders. Frustrated, Jace backed out. All of the guest rooms seemed to be occupied. He fished around in his pocket for the brass key to his room. He jammed it into his lock, kicking open the door. Clary was gigging when he set her down on the bed. He tucked the comforter up to her chin and attempted to move away, but Clary had a death grip on his right him. "Stay," she whispered.

Jace looked at her for a moment before replying: "I...I can't."

"You can," Clary echoed. She cupped his face with her hand. "I know you want to."

He took her hand off of her cheek and grasped it. It was warm and comfortable. "What I want and what I should do are two completely separate things."

He brushed away stray curls from her face. Her hair was a flaming mane around her face. She sat up, wincing slightly. Her nose brushed his, and he made no attempt to move away. He didn't know why. He was frozen in one spot.

"What do you want, then?" Clary whispered. Her breath smelled of booze, but her her underlying scent of flowers from meadows lingered. Everything he did afterwards was completely impulsive. He did the only thing he wanted to do. He kissed her.

His lips touched hers lightly, then with more pressure. Her mouth slightly opened underneath his heat. They only touched at the hands and lips, and it wasn't enough. Jace tangled his hand in her hair roughly and let the other one slide down her bare thigh. Clary's hands made their way under his shirt, exploring the dips and planes of his chests. Jace pulled her closer and closer until...

He pushed away from her. His eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was Jon's sister. He'd never thought of her that way before, but now... Every damn freckle on her nose spoke to him.

"What's wrong?" The innocence in her voice broke his heart, but a sudden relief washed over him. She wouldn't remember this in the morning. He was both elated and disappointed at this prospect.

Jace gently pushed her shoulders down to the mattress. "You should sleep," he said softly.

This time, Clary didn't fight. She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. "You know," she murmured, "you're not as bad as you think you are."

"Yes." Jace gripped her hand painfully tightly, but she didn't seem to mind. "But the things I could do to you...the things I would do to you would destroy you."

"After six years, I thought you'd be less of a martyr." Clary opened one lid, exposing an emerald orb. "But it's what I've always liked about you."

Soft snores followed seconds after her words._ A martyr_. She couldn't have put it better.

_And yet_, Jace thought as he climbed into the bed beside her, _she couldn't be more wrong_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, yeah that kiss was out of the blue. No questions as to why. It'll all come together soon. **

**Well, it's late. I'm tired. IMMA sleep. Thanks so much for reading. :) xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7: Sober

**A/N: I'm back! Did you miss me? ...no? Okay. Well, I was going to post yesterday but I had a ton of Chorus work to do. Sorry about that. This chalter is fairly short and may confuse you guys, but...I'm trying to work with what I have. **

**No, I did not forget about the prank war. :) **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Sober<strong>

Clary's hand was gripping _something_. She tried to see what it was, but as she pried her eyes open, a white blinding light forced her to close them. Her head pounded. Slowly, she tried opening her eyes again.

Gold. Gold was surrounding her. Clary blinked. The world came into focus. Someone was lying next to her. She golden curls were so familiar. The curve of the lip and slope of the nose. Jace.

Last night came rushing back to her. Only bits and pieces, though. A warm hand in hers. The buzz of alcohol. Dancing in a sweaty crowd. Letting go.

Clary pushed away from Jace. Unfortunately, his eyes popped open.

She didn't even give him a moment to speak. "Why the hell am I in your room?" Her voice sounded dusty and cracked.

Jace groaned. "Five more minutes."

Clary shook him violently. Her head was pierced with pain. "No, Jace! I need to know what happened! Did we—"

"Have sex?" Jace smirked, eyes closed. "Yup. And let me tell you, you certainly are—"

Clary hit the back of his head. Hard. "I know we didn't have sex, dipshit," she hissed. "But didn't we do anything else?"

"Well, as I was saying, you gave me a—"

Clary hit him again. "Oh, shut up! I'm being serious."

Jace sat up, rubbing his head. Golden curls fell around his face messily. "No, we didn't," he said. "You were drunk, I know that. I just found you in my bed last night. I think I was too tired to do anything."

"Oh." Clary moved a hand to her lips. "Did I make out with anyone last night?"

Jace's eyes flashed with rigidity for a moment, but it was gone a second after. "Not that I saw. " Jace shrugged. "Not entirely far fetched. I mean, you could've. I wasn't exactly sober. Why?"

"I...remember kissing someone." Clary shook her head. "It doesn't matter, though."

"Right." Jace's voice was slightly uneven. "Well," he said, getting up from the bed. "I'm going to get some Advil." He threw on a shirt and stepped out of the room. Clary watched his retreating back. Something wasn't right. Something just didn't add up.

Clary swung herself out of the bed. Her head spun when she landed on her feet. She pressed her palm against the wall to steady herself. Never drinking again, she thought wryly.

She tiptoed across the landing to the stairs. She stopped at the hushed voices around the corner.

"You're welcome," Jace said. Heels clicked on the wood floors.

"You know, you didn't have to do anything." Isabelle's voice was more of a whisper, probably due to a hangover. "You could've just had a drink. Let loose, for once."

Clary heard Jace sigh. "You know I can't do that," Jace said firmly. "Besides, who knows what you would've done if I weren't sober."

"Me?" Isabelle's tone held question mixed with suspicion. "You mean Clary."

"No, Iz." Frustration filled his words. "Not Clary."

"Oh, come on. I've been telling you for years that—"

"What I want and what I should do are two completely separate things," Jace said shortly. "We're not discussing this, Isabelle."

Those words. Clary's head swam. She'd heard those words before, coming out of his mouth. They were as fresh as peppermint in her mind.

"_What I want and what I should do..._" Clary gasped. She covered her mouth quickly. Those words were from last night. The warm hands. Insistent lips.

"Fine." Clary could imagine Isabelle throwing her hair over her shoulder as she said that. "But you two...I'm telling you, Jon wouldn't kill you."

"No," Jace deadpanned. "He might. That's not the issue. I have to give this medicine to her."

Clary's heart started pounding. She ran quickly and lightly back to Jace's room, launching herself in his bed. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Jace came through the door. He set the pills and water on the bedside table and backed out, shutting the door after him. Clary blindly reached out for the pills and swallowed them dry.

Jace was a mystery, that she always knew. Some mysteries couldn't be solved. Well, luckily for Clary, she was stubborn.

* * *

><p>Jonathan was livid. Well, he would've been if he hadn't had a severe hangover. "You slept <em>where<em>?"

Clary sat down on their living room couch. Somehow, they managed to stumble their way back home. Their parents were away currently, leaving them alone on a Saturday, "In Jace's room," said Clary. "I was drunk, and clearly didn't know what I was doing."

Jon snorted. "Oh, I'm _sure_ your subconscious led you there."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Clary's voice grew in volume. "If you were so concerned for me, you shouldn't have let me come to the damn party. Hell, you shouldn't have drunk the entire state of New York! Don't give me shit about not trusting me, Jonathan. You can't be trusted with your own damn liver." She turned to leave, but Jonathan gripped her shoulder tightly.

Jonathan's eyes softened. "Clary...It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust Jace. I see the way he looks at you."

"Well," Clary said, shoving his hand off of her, "news flash. He doesn't look at me, and I sure as hell don't look at him." She stormed away, leaving Jonathan frustrated.

She immediately reached for her sketchbook when she got to her room, flipping the pages violently. There was Jace, Jace, and more Jace. He covered every inch of the second half of the book. She was angered, more than anything. She was positive that Jace was consciously with her last night. More than anything, she was puzzled as to why he would lie about being drunk.

But the strangest thing to her, by far, was the unfamiliar streak of black paint across the back of her sketchbook.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there it is! **


	8. Chapter 8: I See Fire

**A/N: Well, I had fun writing this. ...too much fun. :)**

**oh, and a guest asked whether Jace's line that he said to Izzy and Clary was in the books. it wasn't.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: I See Fire<strong>

Clary was half-surprised to see Jace in their Math class before the bell rang on Monday. She took her seat beside him and studies him carefully. He didn't seem to have noticed her. His eyes were concentrated on the thin pencil in his hands. "Jace."

Jace jumped a little, but looked up. His eyes had slight bags underneath them. "Hey, Carrot. How's the hangover?"

"Probably not as bad as yours." Jace's gaze tensed momentarily. "What?"

Jace smirked, but it was half-assed, weak. "I'm Jace Wayland. I don't get hangovers."

"And I'm not a drunk." Clary tilted her head. "Stop acting like I am."

Jace's eyes flashed a bright gold. Suddenly, Clary was brought back to a time she didn't remember, but couldn't forget. A streak of gold. An unfamiliar yet addicting taste, a slow but heavy pace. A hint of lemon and rivers on his breath. It came in blurs I'm her mind. The same scent was on him now, blanketing her. Her face must've looked strange, because Jace was calling her back to him. "Carrot? Hey, Carrot."

Clary snapped back into reality. Her head was fuzzy. Jace was gripping her arm tightly. "You okay, Carrot?"

Clary nodded. "Still a bit hungover, I guess." She casted her gaze downward. "You can let go of me now."

Jace released his fingers. "Sorry," he muttered.

Clary nodded tersely and stared forward. It wasn't much to go on, but it was something. She now had an undeniable piece of information.

It was Jace. Jace was the boy with the kind hands and warm lips.

* * *

><p><em>Did she know<em>? She was looking at him like she did. Jace looked away from her, knowing that his eyes would betray him. He was already regretting trying to hide it from her. It shouldn't have been a big deal. He'd known her forever, since she was a frizzy-haired sixth grader. Nothing had changed. He felt the same he always did.

_But you've always felt something_, the voice in his head said.

Jace cursed it, but deep down he knew it was right. Regardless, Jace needed to distance himself. He couldn't destroy her like he'd done to so many other girls. After all, to love is to destroy.

And to be loved is to be destroyed.

* * *

><p>Clary wasn't listening to Isabelle. Not at all. She was ranting about the rising prices of eyeliner. Or how good the sex with Sebastian was. Or how her soda was flat. Clary honestly didn't know.<p>

Clary was wrapped up in her own thoughts. It was disorienting, forgetting hours of her life. She'd kissed Jace. The thought made her cheeks flush and her heart beat faster. She wanted to puke.

"Clary, are you listening at all?" Isabelle's voice sliced through her thoughts. Clary looked down. She'd mutilated her chicken nuggets violently with her fork and beat her carrots to mush. Simon looked amused.

"Yeah," Clary said, picking up a piece of chicken. "Of course I was.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Really? What was I talking about?"

"Uh..." Clary looked around for clues. Her eyes caught on her earring, her ring, her scarf..."You think that purple is the most superior color?" Clary guessed.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You know, one day, you should just listen. You know, to surprise us all." Clary nodded, but again, she wasn't listening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jace skirting along the edge of the cafeteria, making a beeline for the door. _Well, that isn't sketchy or anything_, Clary thought wryly.

She stood up and collected her things. She heard herself telling Simon and Isabelle that'd she wanted to take a walk. She bolted out the door, following Jace's beating footsteps.

Carefully, Clary crept along the walls. Jace's shadow moved away from her quickly. He must've been moving fast. Clary followed him with feather-light steps. He turned into the music room and shut the door behind him. Clary couldn't have been more puzzled. She knelt down next to the door and pressed her ear against it. The cool wood made her jump. She heard the sound of piano keys being pressed down in a feverish motion. The melody was soft, but she heard every note, every display of passion. Clary closed her eyes and slumped against the door. It was beautiful, entrancing.

The song seemed to go on forever, twisting along routes of piano and forte, mellow and dangerous. Jace ended it abruptly. Clary heard him sigh frustratedly and mutter, "Damn it."

Before she could think, Clary had the door open. The marched in, eyes trained on the back of Jace's golden head. It was bent down. "Clary." He said it as if he was expecting her.

"You didn't drink." Clary's voice shook. "I know you didn't."

Jace turned his head to the side, gold eyes burning. "Well, what the hell was I supposed to say? 'Hey, you and I made out, and it was completely unplanned and fantastic'?"

"Yeah, something like—wait, what did you say?"

Jace stood up. Broken fury masked his face. It lined his features, highlighting the dark sorrow in his eyes. "You heard me," Jace said firmly. "But that changes nothing."

"No!" Clary threw her hands up. "You're my brother's stupid, sarcastic best friend."

"Who you've depicted as an angel," Jace yelled. His eyes widened as he realized what he said. "Oh, shit."

The wheels were turning a hundred miles an hour in her head. "Wait, how do you—" Then it hit her. The black streak. The unusual lightness in her bag. "Oh, you did _not_."

"I did." Jace looked down. "It was supposed to be a prank, and—"

"That sketchbook was my _diary_!" Clary's voice shook with immense fury.

He ran a hand through his hair. Clary's heart did a miniature flip. "But I didn't give it to Jonathan." Jace tilted his head. "Doesn't that mean something?"

"It means you have an _ounce_ of decency," Clary retorted. "But you looked through it. You saw..."

"What did I see, Clary?" Jace pressed. He moved a step closer. "Tell me what the hell I saw."

"You saw how I've felt for ages," Clary burst out. Tears streamed down her cheeks, a waterfall of anger. "You saw the anger I felt every time I saw you with another girl."

Jace cocked an eyebrow. "What about me? Every time I see you with the rat, I want to kill him. What does that mean to you?"

Clary sighed in frustration. "It means you let your dick control your head." Clary looked straight at him. Green clashed with gold. "It means that you enjoy playing. Well, I fold."

That was the last thing she said before she walked out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ...heh. *laughs nervously* well, we all knew that was going to happen. Thank you so so so SO much for those reviews, and to those guest reviewers as well. The guest review especially are so long and good, I just appreciate this so much! Love you all! **

**Until next time. Xoxo **


	9. Chapter 9: Into The Skid

**A/N: So, I was totally going to update on Friday, but I got a new iPhone instead. :/ And I was super busy this weekend, so I'm so sorry about that.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Into The Skid<strong>

Jace contemplated following her, but he stayed put. It would've done more bad than good. Jace's frustration grew to the size of the empire state. This wasn't his intention, when he decided to kiss her. But, really, didn't know what his intention actually was. To kiss her, then leave her? No. Not Clary.

He collected his things and strode out of the room, not bothering to lock it. If someone wanted to steal the damn keyboard, they could take it for all he cared. He looked around, groaning when he realized his next class was with Clary. He forced himself to move, one foot in front of the other. Madame Montclair would kill him if he was late.

But as he walked, he thought back to what Clary had said. Do I really think with my dick? Jace wondered.

Maybe he did. He knew he did when he banged with Kaelie Whitewillow. Three times. And he definitely thought with his dick with every girl after then.

Jace made it to class in record time. No one was even there yet. Including Clary. Jace dismissed the possibility of her skipping. She was too goody-two-shoes to face the consequences. The thought brought about a light smirk. The bell rang, sending twenty-seven rowdy teenagers shooting into the previously vacant room. Jace glared at anyone who tried to sit next to him. His feet were bouncing against the tiled floor. A rush went through him. It was the kind that filled him with guilt and enthusiastic anticipation. His eyes trained on the door, watching every pair of eyes that walked in, keeping careful watch for green ones. To soon, final bell rang. Clary wasn't here. Jace slumped down in his seat. Maybe she really wasn't going to show. Maybe she really hated him.

"Jace?" Madame Montclair said. Jace tilted his eyes towards her. "_Oui_?"

"_Clarissa n'est pas ici_?"

Jace shrugged. "_Je ne sais pas—_"

"_Excusez-moi, Madame_," a quiet voice came from the door.

Clary's eyes were slightly rimmed with red. Madame Montclair peered over her glasses at her. "_C'est bon. Il y a un place près de Jace_."

Clary nodded. She avoided eye contact with him as she slowly slid beside him. Jace, however, couldn't keep his eyes off her. "Clary," he whispered.

Clary looked forward, but grew rigid when he spoke. So they were playing that game. He prodded her with the end of his pencil. "Clary, I know you don't want to talk to me," Jace muttered, "but I know you're listening. I've felt the same way for ages now. I just didn't know what to do. I'm sorry if I've hurt you. Hell, I'll glue your shattered parts back together." He casted his eyes towards her. "I'm just...I'm so sorry."

Clary didn't show any sign of hearing him. She just stared ahead. Jace sighed, knowing he'd done everything he could.

All he had to do was wait.

* * *

><p>"You're being stupid, Clary," said Isabelle.<p>

Clary stared at the ceiling of Isabelle's room. The ceiling was painted in pink glitter. Her back was pressed against the soft down of the comforter. By the look on Isabelle's face, she definitely wanted to do better things on a Friday night. It had been five days since Clary had last spoken to Jace. He wouldn't say anything to her, but his eyes told her otherwise.

"I'm not." Clary laced one foot over her other. "I just don't know what he wants."

Isabelle sighed. "He wants _you_. Hasn't he said that enough?"

Clary shook her head. "He said he was sorry. That's it."

Isabelle lay down next to her friend. "And you're sure you don't know what he said that night?"

"Yes, Isabelle," Clary said exasperatedly. "I was drunk off my ass, thanks to you."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Hey, it isn't my fault you know where the good stuff is. You didn't have to—"

"That's not the issue here," Clary cut in. "I just...I'm always confused around Jace."

"You know, I've always thought you two would be good for each other," Isabelle said thoughtfully.

Clary bolted straight up, turning on her friend. "What?"

Isabelle sat up too, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, yeah. I mean, think about it."

Clary shook her head vigorously. While she had feelings for Jace, she never even contemplated a relationships with him. "No, Izzy. I can't even stand the idea of being in a room with him."

"Because he hurt you," said Isabelle. "You bring out the best in him, and he in you."

Clary narrowed her eyes at Isabelle's sincere expression. Damn. She wasn't lying. Clary knew that, deep in her gut, but she didn't want to believe it.

After a long staring contest, Clary sighed. "Fine. What do I even do?"

Izzy shrugged. "I don't know specifically. You need to talk to him. You need to see what he wants."

"But what if he doesn't want this?" Clary whispered. Her eyes were pleading, wide. "What if he doesn't want me?"

Isabelle stood up. She placed her hands on Clary's shoulders and looked straight at her. The seriousness in Isabelle's eyes created a firm hold in the world. "You're Clary Fray," said Isabelle. "No boy has ever gotten the better of you." Isabelle's smile was secretive, proud. "And no one ever will."

* * *

><p>Jace heard the knock on the door clearly. He frowned. No one ever knocked. He placed his book face down on the bed and slid off, his joints protesting as he did. He hadn't moved for ages.<p>

Slowly, Jace approached the door. He swung it open. His brows raised. His heart skipped a beat. He mentally cursed himself for feeling that way. It was just her, right?

Clary Morgenstern stood in front of him, red hair and all. Her green eyes held less fire than they did earlier that day. She looked apprehensive. It was an unfamiliar sight, but Jace felt the same exact way. "Hey. Her voice cracked. "Can I come in?"

Jace stared at her for a moment. "Yeah," he said shakily. He stood aside to let her pass. "Come in."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well there it is! I really need to know, before starting the next chapter whether you want this confrontation in Jace or Clary's POV. I hope you liked it! Xoxo **


	10. Chapter 10: Safe In Your Arms

**A/N: I'm SO sorry for not updating. I just went through something...big and life changing. It's been hard, but I have a couple people who have been supporting me. **

**So, there's a lot of romace in this chapter, I won't say for who...but you do get a sneak peak of a new character to this story!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Safe In Your Arms<strong>

Isabelle gripped the tube of lipstick in her hand. Sighing, she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were dark and smoky and her lips were a deep, blood red. All in all, she looked like herself. She looked like a heartbreaker.

Slowly, she placed the lipstick in her bag for touch ups. She couldn't remember making the plan to go out, but here she was, getting ready to leave with no destination in mind. That was classic Isabelle. Living in the now, not thinking about the future. That was her motto. Well, after "Nothing less than seven inches," which could be applied to more than one thing.

She smirked. She was definitely going to get seven inches tonight.

The doorbell rang just as Isabelle was fastening her earrings. She hurriedly clasped the right ear and sped down the stairs, confusion settling in her mind. Jace was very occupied, Alec was out, and she definitely wasn't expecting anyone.

Simon Lewis stood on the other side of the door. Her heart gave a little kick. His eyes were wide and dark behind the wire-rimmed lenses. "Hey," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a habit of his. Isabelle wondered whether he was aware of it. "Jon said Clary was here, so I figured she was talking to Jace." He nodded his head towards the stairs. "How's it going?"

Isabelle shrugged. "she just went into his room. It could either end really well, or really badly. Either way, I don't want to be here when they come to a solution."

Simon raised a brow. "So, you're running." He casted his eyes up. "Of course."

Anger flared from her stomach. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Simon stepped in, startling Isabelle with his boldness. His eyes grew darker. "It means you're scared of emotions," he said. "Right now, you just want to get laid and move on."

"I just want to have fun." Isabelle's fury burst through the dams. "I'm not some sappy romantic—"

"Look, I'm not here to argue." Simon stepped back. "And I'm not here to judge. I was here for Clary, but she's fine. So, you're going out. Can I come with you?"

Since Simon had shown up on her doorstep, he'd been surprising Isabelle. Simon was always the geeky, quiet sidekick. Isabelle didn't do nerds. Her type was tall, dark, athletic. Not scrawny and quiet. "I don't think the club is really your scene."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Nothing's really my scene, Izzy." He looked at her dead-on. "So, can I?"

She surprised herself by nodding and moving aside. "Come in. Let me finish getting ready."

* * *

><p>"I've never been in here," Clary said. It was the first thing she'd said since knocking on his door. Jace was pulled out of his trance by the rhythmic sound of her voice. She was looking around his room in awe. "It's so...clean. I mean, Jon likes things neat, but you bring OCD to a new level."<p>

Jace wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wasn't sure where to look, and he wasn't sure what to do. His uncertainty must've shown on his face, because Clary pat the bed beside her. "You can sit," she said.

Jace did as she said and lowered himself onto the bed. His fingers laid inches from hers. He'd only have to slip, and he'd be touching her.

Jace glanced over at her. Tension spanned her body, from her shoulders down. She was fighting to not be scared, but he knew she was terrified. So was he.

Impulsively, Jace covered her hand with his. Clary relaxed almost immediately. Finally, he spoke up. "I'm sorry." He was stunned that his voice wasn't shaking. It certainly wanted to. "I'm sorry for taking your sketchbook. I'm sorry for hurting you."

Clary shook her head. "Don't be," she said. "I mean, I'm still planning on killing you for taking my sketchbook."

"I'll hand you the gun," he promised. Clary cracked a smile. They were silent once again. That was one bullet dodged. And now... "So, some things were said," Jace said.

"You don't think with your dick, by the way. And...I understand if you want to take back everything," Clary covered quickly. "I won't hold you to—"

"Would you just let me finish?" Jace rolled his eyes. "I just want you to know that everything I said was true." Clary choked on a gasp, covering it with a cough. "I like you more than I've let on and I want to be with you. If you'll have me, of course."

His words sounded so eloquent, so foreign to him.

Clary's lips formed a small smile. "Of course I want you." She spoke with her natural volume. "Honestly, did you not figure that out already?"

Jace raised his hands in a surrender motion. "Girls are confusing. It'd honestly be a lot easier to date guys. No, I take it back. Girls—"

"Wow, you're _really_ trying to win me over." Sarcasm leaked from her voice.

Jace smirked, entwining their fingers. "Hey, if you want me, you get all of me. Including my—"

"Already, you're insufferable," Clary muttered.

Jace laughed. "Now you get it." He leaned in, capturing her lips with his. His hand gently cupped the back of her head, tangling into her hair. Clary hooked an arm around his neck, drawing him closer. He was marveled by the way her lips moved against him softly. Her underlying scent of roses lingered against the taste of spearmint. He had no agenda when it came to her. He wanted her closer, closer than any other girl. His other hand came up to brush against her cheekbones, skim along her cheek, and rest on her neck. It felt good. It felt right.

Jace rested his forehead against hers. His gold eyes met her emerald ones. The passion in them was unmistakable. And it was all for him

"I guess this makes things official," Jace commented.

"Really?" Clary smirked. "You don't just go around kissing everyone? Who knew."

Jace grinned and pressed his lips against her forehead. "I'm not a man-slut," Jace protested.

"You mean, not anymore?" Clary raised her brows. "Because I definitely remember when—"

"Okay, that's enough." The tips of Jace's cheekbones flared pink. "So, are you sure you want this?"

Clary skimmed her fingertips against his chest. Her eyes focused on the fabric right above his heart. It was a leap of faith. Two months ago, she wouldn't have even considered touching Jace, let alone kissing him. It was reckless of her to even consider this. But her heart was telling her to go for it. It thrashed wildly against her solid ribcage, urging her on. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting his warmed seep into her. "Yeah," she said. "I'm sure."

* * *

><p>Alec hadn't really ever been alone at night before four months ago. He was usually in someone's shadow, not knowing what to do. It was strange, but suddenly he felt open. He felt free.<p>

His hands were shoved in his pocket, turning the balled-up slip of paper around with his fingers absently. He kept stopping at every crossing, wondering whether he was doing the right thing. It wasn't the first time he second-guessed himself, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He knew he would do that for the rest of his life. Unless something changed.

But that was why he was in Brooklyn at nearly midnight. His black sneakers hit the pavement at a careful pace. He pawed along with the grace of a feline, but as dark as the night.

The street outside the brownstone was deserted. He remembered the first time he came, fumbling around for the minuscule piece of paper that held a name and address. It soon became the most important name and address.

Slowly, Alec climbed the concrete steps, looking around in fascination. The only outdoor decor consisted of pearlescent lights strung around the patio, giving a dream-like quality to the still night. His fingers brushed against the jewel-encrusted knocker. It used to be his only way in, but now, it was reminder that he was always welcome. He fished around for the key, sighing when the cool metal pressed against his fingertips. He unlocked the door and crept into the flat.

The inside was far more exciting than the outside. Multicolored futons and pillows were scattered around with little rainbow lights winking at him from every corner. Everything was glitter-covered, something Alec would've hated half a year ago. He found it endearing now.

He slipped up the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake the inhabitant. He wouldn't hear the end of it if he did.

The sound of light snores welcomed him when he entered the room. Magnus Bane was spread out of the bed. A book was turned over on his tan chest, and the lamp was on. Alec slid himself under the silk sheets after shedding his shirt and jeans. The weight on his chest lifted. This was the place where he was an equal. The shadows feared him. He was no one's lacky. He was home.

"Alexander?" Magnus' sleepy voice filled the air between him.

Alec pressed a soft kiss to Magnus' lips. "Go to sleep." He reached over and flicked the lamp off. "Sorry for waking you."

"Don't be," Magnus said, laying his arm across Alec's chest. He kissed Alec's pale skin. "I missed you."

Alec smiled slightly. So, this was what it was like to feel loved. It was empowering. It felt good.

He settled into the covers, pulling the comforter over them both. He ran his fingers through Magnus' hair, relishing in its softness. He was Alec's greatest secret. He kissed Magnus' forehead once more. "I missed you," he whispered to the night.

* * *

><p>The plan was in motion.<p>

Jonathan grinned childishly. He felt like a Bond villain. Well, maybe not a Bond villain. More like Dr. Evil. He wished he had a cat to complete the feeling.

"Jonathan?" Jocelyn Morgenstern popped her head into the room. Her auburn hair fell into her face, nearly obscuring one green eye. Jonathan sat up. "Yeah, Mom?"

"It's time for dinner." She looked around his room. "Where's Clary?"

Jon shrugged. "She said something about being at Isabelle's, I don't know. I'm not her babysitter."

His mother looked at him disapprovingly. "You're her older brother. You need to...why am I wasting my breath? Come down."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll be down in a minute."

Jocelyn shot him one last glance before going back into the kitchen. Sighing, Jonathan pushed himself off of the bed. He was going to win.

He felt it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you guys liked it! **

**What do you guys think Jonathan's plan will be? TBH, it's still up in the air. I kinda don't have a set idea of what I'm going to do, so anything you guys say will be helpful!**


End file.
